The Making of Molly Hooper
by CretianStar
Summary: Molly hates her life and her latest date has made her realise, something has to change.
1. Decisions

A/N: Totally like I don't have an exam tomorrow that I feel SO unprepared for but have procrastinated to the maximum! Anyway, I got bored and sparked this gem. This Molly will probably a bit OOC but roll with it. Please.

Update soon. After my exam.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Molly swilled the wine in her mug. She was feeling somewhat glum; it was a Friday night, maybe now Saturday morning, her date had stood her up and she couldn't be arsed with anything, anymore. She'd turned off her phone, unplugged her mainline, switched off the pager for work and sat on her battered sofa with the only man she needed. Toby. Her little cat was fast asleep, curled in a ball while she used the last clean cup in her kitchen to finish off her cheap bottle of plonk.

She'd been on enough disastrous dates to know that the wine was needed by the time she reached her front door. It was during a tipsy moment that she'd had a revelation – she was a pretty strong, resilient woman. She went on date after date with the same breed of loser-time waster-cheating bastards-creeps. They were all the same but she always held out that one would be different.

'Or you're just stupid and not that clever.' The voice in her head bit out.

"Fuck off." Molly said aloud; she **knew** that voice. Sodding Sherlock Holmes had set himself up in her subconscious as the paranoia part of her mind. That derisive know-it-all that took pleasure in pointing out flaws and reminding her that the majority of her life sucked. Setting her mug down firmly, ignoring the last droplets of wine at the bottom, Molly hauled herself upright, scooping a now disgruntled feline into her arms, she walked through to her bedroom and depositing the ball of fluff on the bed where he stalked up to the pillow and made himself comfy.

Molly sighed, is this really all life had to offer? She stood in front of her mirror and frowned at the reflection. The other Molly looked tired, not well hidden under an exterior of well applied and repeatedly smudged make-up. There were bags under her eyes that came with working all shifts at the morgue, she felt older than her 33 years of age. Life had aged her horribly and in this drunken moment she felt close to tears. But Molly Hooper didn't cry; she was an intelligent woman with a PHD. Tears meant nothing, just a way of releasing chemicals and toxins. But they did so much more.

Molly was suddenly aware that Other Molly had water leaking from her eyes, the traces of mascara trickling black down her cheeks and she was suddenly angry with herself. Life was what you made it. You went out and did things, making it more exciting. She refused to be the mad cat woman crying in front of a mirror with traces of a failed Friday night lingering.

"That's it Molly Hooper. Time to make life exciting." Molly angrily told herself. Toby mewed once and it seemed to seal everything. Grabbing her make-up wipes, she scrubbed her face clean of the nonsense, of her past life, of a Molly that didn't say boo to a goose. She shimmied of her little girly summer dress and shucked her white underwear.

"New wardrobe first." She decided, slipping beneath the covers, neglecting her ducky pyjamas and falling into an alcohol laced slumber.


	2. Starting Up

A/N: I promise it'll get wilder... this is building to be a fairly good chaptered story (for once) so bear with me please!

Anyway, reviews are love and all that baloney!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Molly woke with somewhat of a headache. Not as bad as it has been on Saturday mornings, but not the lightest either. She blinked at her alarm clock and saw it was heralding half eleven in the morning. She closed her eyes again and was suddenly struck with the memory of her pledge last night. Part of her was terrified and what she had said and was ready to strike it off to cheap wine and loneliness. Ready to ignore it because no-one but Toby witnessed it but the rest of her was shouting that part down. She hated her life; she had no-one but Meena and Mary Watson. John on occasion, she'd broken things off with Tom when she found him in bed with some tart from his insurance company. That had been messy but in a strange way she'd been relieved, plus Toby had never liked that little ratty pooch that Tom had chosen. When a dog is smaller than a cat there is something seriously wrong with the world.

Wriggling in the covers, Molly almost revelled in the nakedness. She would uphold her pledge and she would start doing something new with her life. She didn't want to be the mad old spinster with the thirty cats. She had Toby and that's it. No more.

It was Toby who interrupted her thoughts, padding onto her chest and mewing plaintively enough to tell her he was hungry. He own stomach rumbled in concurrence and she pushed the insistent kitty away, tugging on her fluffy pink dressing gown. Staring down at herself , Molly realised she'd aged herself another twenty years without realising it. She walked through her magnolia flat and shook her head. She wasn't an OAP for god's sake, she needed colour in her life. Setting up Whiskers for Toby who crunched and munched contentedly, she dug sausages out of her fridge, sniffed the bacon and deemed it edible before sticking baked beans in the microwave. Soon enough her greedy cat was perched on the table looking hopefully at the bacon.

"Nice try. But no." She swatted him away gently and then decided her plan of action.

By working all shifts, Molly had accrued a ridiculous amount of holiday, holiday that Mike Stamford had begged her to take off. One quick ring and she should be allowed to take it off next week. Plugging her main phone in, Molly was right in her assumption and Mike almost sounded relieved that she was making a dent in the holiday owed to her. He'd even suggested she'd take two weeks off which she'd politely declined. She was also thinking of booking a holiday and that would require another week, but she wasn't going to tell Mike that.

Molly now had until next Monday to work on her plan. The first was definitely to decorate her poky little flat. She realised with a groan that she had really turned into a little old lady without knowing it and Molly felt a new sense of conviction inside her. It was a feeling that didn't involve mooning over Sherlock, worrying about work or thinking what an ass Tom had been. She hurried into the shower, tugging on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt before tracking down the nearest DIY store in London. Since she'd moved into the flat her Nan had bought for her, she hadn't wanted to change anything but Molly realised the flat needed a little TLC and beige wasn't the new Molly's colour. She had enough money for paint and a taxi if she really wanted, but she really should decide on colour schemes. Every room was beige apart from her bathroom which was a pale blue. Her lounge and kitchen was open plan, so she could hardly separate it into two separate colours, but her bedroom could be a nice feisty colour and her bathroom well that might stay the same for now.

Switching on her mobile, Molly realised she had two missed calls from Sherlock which she promptly ignored; he normally barged her door down if he really needed her. At least her doors didn't need painting, they were still glossy white as was all the skirting. What room did she really want to start with first. She'd need a lot more than angry drunk Molly had realised last night. She'd need sheets to cover furniture and a roll of masking tape to protect edges. This was a big project for just one week so which would she prefer to do.

Her bedroom. She didn't want to be boring in the bedroom, so that was the room she'd work first and maybe the hallway. Meena might help and Mary probably would if she asked but Molly was nervous at including others; it made her decision a reality but then she shook her mousey fit off. She was doing this.

Grabbing her purse, Molly knew what colour she wanted her room and headed out with that determination. She ended up in a paint store trying to find the right shade of green and frowned at the options, until she came across Pixie Green. Biting her lip, Molly had this habit of clashing colours and if by some grace of the Gods, the elderly man came from behind the counter with a smile.

"Need a hand love?" He took the can from her hands.

"Please, I'm not so great with which colours match." Molly watched as his fingers ran over the cans and selected Kiwi Crush.

"Now how big is your room?" The pair pealed off into details about her bedroom, working out how many cans she would need, brushes and paint trays were added to her purchases and he even added dust sheets and threw in masking tape for free. She left with four heavy cans and happily flagged a taxi. Sheer laziness on her behalf but who cared!?

Molly grimly realised that this was nothing like the chick flicks. For a start there wasn't the part time firefighter or the solider on leave helping the heroine to move her wardrobe, nor would there be the musical montage that lasted for about five minutes that resulted in the room being clean airy and full of life, which would end with a kiss. No this was a lot of hard work that required a hoover, strong arms and determination. She had two of those things. By the time she'd emptied her wardrobe onto her sofa and heaved it inch by inch into the centre of the room, her small chest of drawers received the same treatment. Her wrought iron frame bed was next, it had been a spend that Molly occasionally regretted, like when it came to changing her sheets and one she was regretting now as she struggled to love the bed away from the wall. Her vanity desk would be a problem but she swept her make up into the two drawers and tugged it next to her wardrobe, shrouding them in the dust sheets. Thank god she opted out of having bookshelves in her bedroom! The four in her lounge would be hard enough she realised with a sinking heart but set about rummaging for the masking tape.

Her mirror was attached to her wall and would require tape around its edges to stop any stray paint damaging the frame. She taped her window frame and sill, pondering over the skirting boards before setting to fill the paint trays.

Two hours later and Molly had finished one wall, edges and all. It was the smallest wall, the wall that led to the bathroom. Laying back on another dust sheet covering her carpet Molly let out a sigh. Other Molly had been conspicuously absent for the large amount of work that seemed to be continuously building as she decided to renovate her life. Wearily wiping a stray lock of green tainted hair from her forehead, her stomach her decided to chime in. Goodness knows where Toby was; he wasn't used to her being home for such a long amount of time and not receiving her attention. Hauling herself upright, Molly righted the scrap of fabric masquerading as shorts and snorted at the memory.

Mary Morstan's hen do. The blonde was vivacious and louder than life and had insisted on hot pants at her hen night. So Molly had rummaged through Primark and found a girly pink pair that suited her hen night needs, a night that had ended somewhat blurrily and Molly had been informed by Meena, Tom had carried her into bed when he found her crawling up her stairwell. Well the lanky bastard has his uses. Molly mused as she found Toby sitting expectantly at his food bowl. Keeping up one sided patter with her grumpy cat, Molly fixed herself a ready meal, something she had a vast amount of in her fridge and freezer and chattered away, washing paint brushes and trays.

The next three days continued in a similar pattern, until her bedroom was finished. Two opposite walls were dark Pixie green while the other two were freshly Kiwi crushed. If Molly was real artsy she would have painted some swirls of opposing colours on the walls but she wasn't and she refused to ruin her good work on a whim. She was just scrubbing the brushes through when she heard her door open.

No-one else had keys and for a heartbeat she was scared, but then logic kicked in. Sherlock.


	3. Help is at Hand

**Chapter 3**

The insufferable man had broken into her flat.

"Are you okay?" He almost sounded concerned. Molly felt the familiar feelings of fear and excitement well inside her until Other Molly made an appearance.

"Perfectly well, thank you Sherlock." She said primly, placing the brushes on newspaper on the sideboard.

"You haven't been to work since last Friday." He was minutely analysing everything from the rummaged clothes on the sofa to the paint streaks in her hair. "You've been decorating?" His eyebrow raised and Molly stared boldly back at him.

"No shit." Other Molly was far feistier than she was given credit. "Excuse me." She sidled past him, cracking open a can of whiskers for his Royal Highness Toby, who purred his happiness before munching on the gravy covered meat chunks.

"You're not in any danger, you haven't been kidnapped… no threats received whatsoever…" Sherlock almost seemed at a loss. "You haven't picked up any of my messages!" He was now pouting.

"I've taken a week off Sherlock, which means from you as well, now unless you want to help me rearrange my wardrobe contents I suggest you leave." Molly smiled and she had already deduced that Sherlock would scarper for the door, which he did. Maybe not scarper, but beat a hasty retreat from the tedium that was women's clothes. Molly did stare at the pile with some form of dread but pushed it to the back of her mind and decided to see how dry the paint was behind her bed.

She ended up fast asleep, her furniture still bunched in the middle of the room at 4pm, exhausted by her sudden activity and knowing it was mostly finished. Molly was rudely awoken by a hammering on her door. Jolting awake, she stumbled down her hallway where she'd thrown all her shoes and peeked through the keyhole. Meena was outside.

"I know you're in there you monster!" She was carolling and Molly had to laugh. She opened the door and raised one eyebrow. She hid the smirk when Meena stopped and stared at her. "I don't think your new attire is an improvement." She said drily, pushing past her best friend and stopping dead in the hallway. "Are you moving?"

"No just decorating, pick your way through the mess and I'll explain over tea." Molly just sighed, tugging the band off her wrist and tying up her bed hair. Filling her best friend in on her sudden life plan was not as scary as she'd once thought; now her best friend was practically bouncing in her chair, eyes gleaming, babble at the ready.

"Finally! I knew this day would come!" Meena grinned and was already up. "I also knew you'd need me for the fashion part of it." Molly just rolled her eyes at the ostentatious actions of her oldest friend.

"I need to keep some of my clothes for work, I don't think my clientele will care if I'm wearing skinny jeans or slacks." She snorted.

"I'm not getting rid of all your clothes, some of them are really you. But I am going to take you out for going out clothes." Meena beamed and Molly snorted again, peals of laughter between each inelegant snuffle.

"Going out?" Molly laughed. "That was not part of my master plan, I don't club Meena."

"Heck girl neither do I, at the ripe old age of thirty-four I feel like a pervert in clubs nowadays, I'm talking dinner. Once every so often you and I should do dinner somewhere fancy and pretend we're dating a minor member of the nobility." Meena smirked and Molly couldn't help but like the idea of eating at one of the places she went past at work just for one extravagant evening.

"That sounds quirky." Molly laughed and the pair flopped on the sofa, Molly slightly atop the clothes heaped around her, Meena at the other end stroking a purring Toby.

"We could do one last night of bar hopping…" Meena said slyly. "Not necessarily clubbing." Molly sighed, her best friend had that look in her eye that told her she would be incredibly hard to sway.

"We could…" Other Molly had spoken up in the back of her mind, reminding her she was making life something different for once.

"Wait, as easy as that?" Meena's eyes widened.

"Yes, why not. But… shopping first." Molly waved her arms at the mess around her. For a woman that said she disliked shopping, she realised four days ago she had too many sodding clothes.

"We're going to buy you some sexy underwear girl, maybe you'll stop living like a sodding nun." Meena had found a pair of white knickers under her shoulder and pinged them at their owner. Molly had laughed and the pair delved into a clothes fight that left Toby streaking out of the room with a bra hanging from his tail.

"Point taken from a Soho whore." Molly stuck her tongue out. She had met Meena at school, the pair had almost lost touch during University but had found one another when they were working at St Barts, Meena as a nurse and Molly as a pathologist. They had been best friends at school, going through every awkward phase together and the stories were regularly dredged from their past when too much wine was flowing. Stories like when Meena had fluffed her first kiss with Tony Ronaldson by dribbling or when Molly had fallen head first into the school swimming pool due to her sheer clumsiness. The pair were now stupendously close for being so different; Meena was loud and boisterous, she could drink many under the table and wake up relatively fresh faced, she also had a little black book that was as thick as any Game of Thrones novel. Molly had been the polar opposite of her at school but they worked well and Meena had coaxed out a timid eleven year old into a funny, entertaining, and chatty but relatively clumsy sixteen years old.

"I resent the Soho part, men should pay for how amazing I am in the sack." Meena stretched back on the sofa, knocking off a mound of crumpled t-shirts.

"I'm sure some have tried." Molly snickered, earning a black look from her friend.

"We're going shopping tomorrow." Her friend pointed one long finger at her, tipped with bright blue nail varnish.

"Feel free…ohh while you're here…" Molly bit her lip. "How much do you love me?" She batted her eyelashes at her best friend whose face become somewhat amused, almost guessing what Molly was going to ask.

"Is this going to result in take-away and drunken clothes sorting?" Meena raised one elegant eyebrow.

"And moving my wardrobe back." Molly grinned and squealed when Meena heaped another pile of clothes on her head.

"You owe me for this Hooper." She laughed. "I'm thinking Thai or Chinese… oh but maybe Dominoes." Meena hummed as she pulled herself upright. Between men and her work, another of Meena's greatest loves was food. The skinny little rake was infuriating to Molly's "womanly" curves as she scoffed take-away meals like they were near extinction. Molly would argue the metabolisms when she was being rational and that Meena was constantly running from ward to ward, doing jobs and moving things while Molly stood over a metal table all day but irrational Molly coveted her best friend's athletic figure.

"Dominoes." Sod the diet and the green eyed envy that she would undoubtedly feel when the ham, chicken and mushroom pizza would add three extra pound to her frame, she was hungry and deserved a treat after four gruelling days and four tedious ready meals. She heard Meena ordering the food as she attempted to clear the clothes, giving up when she realised that they would maybe sort them later with tipsy giggles.

"Good plan. You shall wait and pay for dinner while I nip to the convenience store and get some wine." Meena had gone before Molly could even protest. Molly was left to stare critically at the clothes pile and wondered where she'd left her purse. Half an hour later as there was a knock at the door, Molly had just managed to locate her kitten covered purse and had opened the door to Meena flirting with the barely eighteen delivery driver. Molly was fairly sure she had interrupted Meena's trump card of getting his number.

Molly had just shut the door with her foot, balancing the pizzas in one hand, the sides in another and the bottle of coke hefted under her arm.

"One, why did you order coke when you were bringing back wine, two you have ordered enough food to feed my entire block, three, you are a bad person." Molly ticked off her mental list as Meena simply smirked and placed the wine in the fridge.

"One, we need clear heads for shopping tomorrow so I thought coke would be good with dinner, two, nope just two hungry women with a passion for pizza and three, he was cute and just legal." Meena winked and Molly shook her head.

"You are incorrigible." She said no more to her best friend as the pair rolled out the pizzas, doughballs, chicken wings and wedges and Molly realised she was starving. Attacking her pizza with gusto the pair settled into some sober clothes sorting, critically assessing work clothes and home clothes. Molly still wanted comfort, she wasn't a show dog in her own home, she liked her comfy jumpers and baggy bottoms and Meena appreciated that.

Then the wine was cracked open and Molly was fairly sure it went all downhill from there. Underwear was sorted and thrown to one side of the room or the other, she vaguely remembered proclaiming loudly she would need some crappy underwear, as an incentive not to sleep with a guy on the first date and for those days where she felt like slobbing around. Meena accepted her terms but nevertheless a majority of Molly's nude, cream and white underwear was hurled to the bin side of the lounge.

Molly woke from a rather uncomfortable sleep on her sofa, head resting on a pile of jumpers with something hard jamming in the small of her back. Gathering her slightly hungover senses Molly realised it was Meena's foot pressing into her back; they had topsed and tailed on the sofa, Meena hung unattractively over the arm of the chair, mouth agape, snorting and snuffling with every breath.

"You are so attractive." Molly smirked and jabbed her best friend in the ribs. It barely elicited a reaction, the woman slapped her hand and went to roll over. Only there wasn't anywhere on the narrow sofa to roll and Meena found herself dumped on the carpeted floor. "So elegant and lady-like." Molly laughed, holding her stomach and her head as the ache kicked in.

"Shut it Hooper." Meena too was holding her head. "I knew there would be too much wine." She blinked slowly and Molly laughed again.

"We're getting old!" The two women ached their way through breakfast of toast and marmalade washed down with strong tea and stared critically at the mess they had made last night.

"I blame you." Meena sighed and stretched. "I also dibs your shower first." The dark haired woman darted off before Molly had a chance to reply and she heard the water rushing soon enough. Sighing, running a hand through paint encrusted hair and tangles, Molly set about finding black bags to put her clothes in. Despite the amount of alcohol imbibed the previous night, they had been right in their judgement; they were clothes Molly hardly ever wore anymore or had never worn. Her most regular clothes had gone back to the keep pile as Meena had proclaimed it was hard to envision a Molly Hooper that didn't have cardigans and slacks in her wardrobe.


	4. There's Concern?

**Chapter 4**

Molly and Meena were soon touring London, Meena borrowed one of the less granny-ish tops and the pair were rifling through Primark and Debenhams and other shops in order to replace Molly's wardrobe. They'd argued over a red dress that Meena ended up buying her as a present and now they were arguing over lingerie.

"There's nothing to them!" Molly held up the scrap of purple lace, inspecting it with a critical eye.

"That's the point." Meena sighed, Molly had already refused Victoria's Secret amongst other boutique stores so they were in Marks and Spencers looking at their selection of underwear. "Come on Mols, these are nice but nowhere near as scandalous as half the pieces I own. You don't have to get the Brazilian knickers, just buy the boy shorts." Meena held up the purple bra and shorts and saw Molly waver.

"Fine."

"Then we'll upgrade you to the Brazilians." Meena winked and the pair left with sets in shades of bright green, pink and purple. When they got back to her flat, Sherlock and John were waiting. Sherlock was on the phone to what sounded like Lestrade while John was sat on the sofa watching her TV.

"What are you doing here?" Molly said abruptly and Sherlock spun.

"Never mind, I'll call you back." The tall detective took in Meena, the numerous shopping bags and probably the coffee stain on Molly's skirt from where she was laughing too hard at one of Meena's revelations. "Where have you been?"

"Jesus, what are you her mum?" Meena had no strong liking for the detective, she thought he was an arse and horrible to Molly when all she'd done was everything to help him. She had been furious when he'd come back from the dead, making Molly an accomplice to his faked suicide. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that he'd put her best friend in danger and that while he may not ranked her life very high in his list of priorities, Molly Hooper was high on hers.

"John was worried about you." Sherlock ignored Meena, the forthright woman was a minor nuisance in his life.

"Not true." John piped up from the sofa, jumping up as the two women walked further in.

"All your clothes are bagged up and everywhere is a mess, what is going on?" Sherlock looked at Molly and she could feel herself weakening under his penetrating gaze. Luckily for Other Molly, Meena came to the rescue.

"Molly's sorting her life out, weeding out people she doesn't need." Her tone was biting, her point made and Sherlock was forced to look at the acerbic woman. It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that she was still involved with Molly but some warning part of his brain registered it would not be best to rile up Meena Kahn; she had a vicious bite. "Lunch Mols?" The dark haired woman inspected the fridge and cupboards, finding a pepper, a mushroom that could be saved through frying and a small amount of rice.

"Thanks Meena." Molly put her purchases on the kitchen table, Sherlock on her heels while John loitered looking uncomfortable. "How's Mary?" She turned to the long suffering doctor with a sympathetic smile.

"She's a little irritated, pregnancy doesn't always suit her." John shrugged, stepping into the kitchen. Meena had no problem with him and smiled as he stood closer. Sherlock was surreptitiously nosing through Molly's bags but Meena would stay quiet until he reached the Marks and Spencers bag. "Your room looks good Molly." John said conversationally and Sherlock's head whipped up.

"You went through my room?" She arched one brow as Meena retrieved the frying pan from the depths of Molly's unused kitchen.

"Sherlock was sure you had been kidnapped or drugged as … how did you term it?" John turned to his icy companion.

"Term what?" Sherlock grit his teeth at the sudden attention.

"That's it, your behaviour pattern has changed suddenly and without a reason." John was smirking slightly and Meena had to turn away to quell a giggle.

"Oh well, thank you. It took me three days to paint but I'm quite proud of it." Molly glossed over Sherlock's deductions.

"You painted it alone?" John was beginning a mundane conversation and Sherlock was frustrated by it.

"Of course she painted it by herself, why else would it take such a long time as three days? The edges are also slightly wonky on one side of the room from her using her left hand while she is right handed and there's evidence of long brush work near the ceiling and she's balanced on her dining room chair, this is also thanks to the paint splatters on the back of the chair. As a naturally clumsy person I am surprised there is not more paint on the chair, and that she was stupid enough to use the chair knowing how inept she can be." Sherlock ground out. He was met with stunned silence.

"Well I think Molly's done an amazing job." Meena's tone was cold again, glaring at the obnoxious man.

"We'll come and visit Mary soon." Molly smiled, shaking off the words left by Sherlock, she was used to the scorn. "She must be in need of a bit of comfort and company."

"Sure when I get the time off I will." Meena smiled at the doctor who was thankful for Molly's usual calm when Sherlock was a bastard. The smell of frying peppers soon indicated to John that it was time to leave and all but chasing after a sweeping Sherlock the two men left.

"Not a word." Molly came back into the kitchen after closing the door behind John.

"He's a string of bad words." Meena didn't turn round but the topic of Sherlock was dropped as they tucked into the rice dish.


	5. Molly Doesn't Run

A/N: Hey hey hey so it's been over a year! Well woohoo - I got one more chapter for you! Maybe another if I can think about it long enough!

* * *

"This was not part of the plan." Molly spluttered as she trailed beside Meena who was practically glowing. And smiling. She was smiling **while** running. Seriously who did that?!

"You wanted to change your life around. _You _suggested getting fitter to me." Meena hummed, slowing her pace to match Molly who felt her head beginning to spin.

"How far have we gone?" She took a heaving breath.

"Half a mile." Meena raised an eyebrow. "But I'll let you off as you haven't run in how long?"

"Never. I've never run! Can we stop at this lamppost please?" She turned her large brown eyes on her best friend who laughed.

"This time we can." Molly glared up at her from where she'd collapsed on the floor. Her legs were burning and she could almost feel the death rattle in her lungs while Meena looked practically heavenly. There was barely a hint of red in her cheeks _and_ she was still jogging on the spot while Molly was debating whether to throw up her breakfast.

"Carry me home." She beseeched her best friend who snorted.

"Not a chance butthead, get up, we'll walk back." She hauled Molly upwards who grumbled at having to be upright.

"It's too far. Leave me here and go on without me." Molly had her one moment of flamboyance pretending to faint against Meena who laughed again.

"Get off me you loser! You're lucky I'm not dumping your arse on the kerb and finishing my three miles!" She linked arms with Molly who looked aghast at three miles. "You used to do this when we ran at school do you remember?"

"Remember? Us running at school!? You mean you zooming off in the front and me trailing along at the back… if there was an award for last place I'd have** always **won the damn prize!" Molly laughed, feeling around in her bra for her front door key, letting the pair back in.

"Well what can I say, I had boys to beat!" Meena chuckled. "Hey Molls I'm gonna _run_ home and we'll catch up at lunch tomorrow?" She hugged her sweaty bestie and ran back down the stairs onto the London street, vanishing when Molly closed her front door and leant back on it, feeling absolutely exhausted.

"Molly where have you been?" A voice came from the kitchen doorway.

"For God's sake Sherlock!" Molly screeched, holding her chest as his lanky form stepped towards them. "I've been running." She huffed, sweeping sweaty hair from her cheeks. Even Other Molly was not feeling happy that Sherlock was seeing her in such a state of disarray.

"Molly… Molly doesn't run." Sherlock said blankly, staring at the top of Molly's head as she bent down to undo her laces.

"Molly does." She said stiffly, realising that his use of the third person meant it was a mental remark said aloud instead of being aimed at her. She looked up to see him staring at her. Not critically but as though he was analysing her. Which he probably was. "Can I help you Sherlock? I'd really like to shower and just read the latest science journal out." She raised an eyebrow and Sherlock's facial expression finally changed.

"Oh." He straightened. "It's just… Molly what's happened? You've changed everything in the last month! Nothing adds up anymore I don't understand…" He cocks his head, staring at her as though she's an experiment and Other Molly has had enough.

"Well stick me under a microscope Sherlock, just get out and let me shower in peace please!" She snaps and Sherlock almost recoils. "Yes leave." She taps her toes against the carpet and crosses her arms across her chest. He goes to sweep past her but stops when he reaches her. His hands hover at her shoulders then he pulls them back, his mouth opens to say something but it shuts again without a word, instead he nods and frowns before disappearing out of the door.

Molly shakes her head in disbelief and peels off her tank top and jogging bottoms, dumping them in her laundry basket before running herself a well-deserved bath. Later she might ruminate on Sherlock's weird behaviour but for now she wanted a trashy romance novel and bubbles up to her nose.


	6. Calamities

A/N: What is this?! Is this another instalment!? Hell yeah it is! I am building towards a Sherlolly.. I think... I'm vague on the future of this right now - it's more mirroring my life more than anything! But there's no Sherlock in my life for when I knock things flying...

Dammit, enjoy!

* * *

"Molly where are you?" Sherlock strode into her flat having broken in again and stopped short at the sight before him.

The pathologist was lying face down on the floor of her living room and she barely stirred at his voice. He crossed the room in two long strides and was crouching beside her, rolling her onto her back when she groaned at him.

"Fuck off Sherlock." She glared at him.

"Molly are you okay?" He almost sounded concerned as he tugged her up by the elbow to sit her on the couch. "Are you hurt, what's happened?" He was urgently scanning her face for any signs of trauma or upset but could only find discontent and mild anger.

"It's been a shit day Sherlock." She huffed and rested back against the sofa closing her eyes once more and Sherlock was silent for a moment before standing up to assess the flat.

There was laundry spilt across the floor, food was awry in the kitchen and a candle had left a rather large deposit of wax down her mantle. He opened his mouth to complain that these were small things compared to the Swiss jewel thief he had just uncovered but something stopped him. A voice that sounded remarkably like John's told him to hold up. That annoying friend of Molly's had also taken up root in his head (no matter how many times he had tried to delete her) and was staring at him, daring him to belittle Molly's day.

"It does look to have been an awful day, what's happened exactly." He said, changing tact and turning back to face the pathologist. She'd cracked one eye open to look at him before letting out a somewhat dramatic sigh.

"I went to make brunch this morning, thought I'd have rice and chicken. Turns out the chicken was off and I had no mushrooms, so I opted for onion, peppers and peas but I knocked the peas flying after they came out of the microwave so I had rice, peppers and onions." She explained the mess in the kitchen. "I thought 'Oh I'll light a candle this morning, make it all atmosphere-y' but no, the bloody thing has too much wax and hence the mess across my mantle." She snaps, glaring at the offending stub of a candle. "And Toby was in a bitch of a mood this morning and attached my freshly laundered sheets this morning because they offended him in some obsolete way so I've got shredded washing too, that I had ironed."

'Ahh, ironing' Sherlock remembered suddenly, opening the door to his Molly room in his palace. Molly really hated ironing, so she would be irate with her missing cat.

"He's hiding in the kitchen because he knows I'm in a bad mood with him." She muttered on cue, as though she had read his mind.

"Well let's tidy this up then." Sherlock surprised himself at the words that came easily from his mouth, but he had a funny feeling it was his Mental Molly's Friend (what was her name) that had nudged him to do this.

"Are you mad Sherlock? You never tidy!" She had stood next to him now and was staring up at him, entirely surprised by the turn of events.

"This once I will and don't tell John, or Mrs Hudson, or your friend… what's her name?" He said dismissively, dumping his coat on the sofa and striding towards the kitchen.

"Meena, her name is Meena." Molly called after him. That was it, Mental Meena definitely had a hand in this.

But Sherlock was soon wiping up the peas that had gone flying by Molly the klutz and dumping them in the bin, even going so far as to put her dirty bowls in the dishwasher and setting the frying pan to soak. He spied Toby hiding between the fridge and the cupboard.

Molly was still sorting the sheets as he hunted out a cake spatula in the drawer – did Molly bake? – and he tackled the mess the candle made next; scraping the offending white wax from the marble carefully and depositing it in a bowl for her. He even washed any waxy residue off from the mantel piece and was steadfastly ignoring Molly's gaping stare towards him.

"All fixed." He said, sweeping crumbs of wax into his hand and throwing them in the bin. "I only came to see if you would help me with a body but I will badger Threading to let me in instead, I'm sure she's done something stupid again." Sherlock dusted his hands and grabbed at his coat from the sofa.

"Wait hold up." Molly stood from the sheet pile and grabbed his arm. "Give me two minutes to throw my work clothes on and I'll join you." She smiled. "The sheets will keep and Toby, the little shit will still be hiding." She vanished into her bedroom and Sherlock was faintly astonished that the new feisty Molly Hooper had agreed to help him. She'd told him to fuck off last time.

Never mind, he'd worry over it later. He decided as she came back out with her work handbag slung over her shoulder and flat keys in her hand.

"I'll do my make up in the taxi." She shooed him out of the door. "While you tell me what's going on with this case." She locked the door and the pair left.


	7. Drunk & Deductions

A/N: So this has been in the making in a while, and it's probably got a bit of a weak ending, but right now I'm thinking the future of this and how it's going to all fit together etc etc. As it started out as a bit of a parallel to my life I've got to figure a fitting ending!

Enough rambles. Enjoy!

* * *

"There's an adventure just around the corner. I'm sure of it." Molly sighed, downing her third glass of wine and muting the credits to Walking on Sunshine. She was talking to Toby, Meena having fallen asleep about half hour ago. The grumpy gib was glaring up at her, tail twitching before his gaze flicked back to Meena who was asleep on _his_ chair.

Molly had felt this restless passion building for the last few weeks. She enjoyed her job, without a doubt she enjoyed her job, she liked the people and the work was interesting – of course Sherlock had been a perk but even now his visits had whitewashed into dullness. He was even being nice to her and that novelty had worn off pretty quickly.

She had tried to get her life turned around – she wasn't talking relationship, new house, new car etc etc but there was something needed in her life. To take her out of the rut and out of the mundane little patch of world she had created. She was stagnating and it was irritating her. It niggled under her skin; even the wine and movie nights with Meena, started just a few months ago were wearing on her nerves. She wanted to do something new. Exercising was hard but she was keeping at it, ditching the chocolate on her snack breaks at work, opting for carrots and new found love of hummus. She could feel herself feeling better but the motivation was a daily struggle. She just felt tired of having to work against the current, a current she knew she'd thrust herself into by changing her rut but sometimes she tired of it.

She realised she'd drank too much when she stumbled to her feet and flicked the TV's power off before sliding down the wall. She could feel something was around the corner but she knew it'd require patience and a little more motivation to reach at it. All of her changes weren't as satisfying as she wanted them to be. She still had that undercurrent of distaste about her life.

She knew why.

She was still a thirty something singleton who had more conversation with her cat and the dead than she did any living man. She wasn't going to find someone like the hunk in her film (though why would she want him when he was so disparaging about the heroine's decision to go to university), working in a morgue. Molly turned to face the front door, smiling at the silhouette in it – there was only one man with those curls. Hauling herself upright in an inelegant fashion, she waited at the door for him to break in, which he duly did.

"Sherlock." She whispered, pleased that she saw him jump in surprise.

"Molly, why are you awake?" He muttered back before continuing his thoughts. "Damn it, it must be movie night, which means Meena is here." Even in the low light of the hallway she saw him grimace.

"She's fast asleep, what can I help with Sherlock?" She whispered, and squeaked slightly when he stepped closer to her.

"You're drunk Molly..."

"Tipsy Sherlock, only a little tipsy." She corrected, wagging one finger in his face.

"You've imbibed alcohol, any help I need from you can be given in the morning, let's put you to bed."

"Sherlock." Molly interrupted him trying to steer her towards her bedroom door. "Why are you being nice to me? I don't think I like it – I mean I could take it when you were polite because I knew you were trying but there was still the old Sherlock underneath, this doesn't feel like my Sherlock, this feels like someone's done a body swap on you and you're not my Sherlock." She finished stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"I finally listened to John's advice and thought I would treat you the way I should have all of these years." He looked confused. Adorably confused.

"Oh. Well I don't like it." Molly shrugged and turned towards her bedroom. "Good night Sherlock." She yawned and the consulting detective set himself up in the hallway, absent-mindedly stroking Toby who purred loudly at the new sober guest and settled on the man's lap.

He needed a think about Molly Hooper.

_Doctor Molly Hooper. His mental Molly corrected him quite crossly. _

_Yes Yes Doctor Molly Hooper, now what are you going to tell me? Sherlock quizzed but his mental Molly clammed up and stared back at him defiantly. _

_She had gone from mouse to mouthy. Why?_

_Tom, it had to have been that creep from insurance that changed her mind. No wait not true. Again Sherlock couldn't discover the switch that had changed Molly's attitude to life. Not that he was complaining, she had always been the one that mattered to him but being a mouse had saved her life before, he didn't want her being put into danger. _

_All the while his mental Molly was smirking at him as he ran in circles. She stood in her new bedroom, paint smeared across her face before flicking to a number of saucy outfits he'd seen her in when she was out bar hopping with Meena. Meena, his thoughts soured at the difficult woman but grudgingly he had to give credit – she was the best sort of friend for Molly to have. _

He'd figure it out, and it best be soon – if he could figure out a problem for Irene Adler and deconstruct his brother's plan in less than five seconds he could fathom Doctor Hooper's random change of nature.


End file.
